


Perfect

by glitterypinkblood



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Dirk has OCD, M/M, OCD, non-sburb AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterypinkblood/pseuds/glitterypinkblood
Summary: Something my Significant Other wrote where Dirk Strider suffers having severe OCD and stuff.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I WOULD LIKE TO CLARIFY THIS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME AND I TAKE NO CREDIT BESIDES EDITING OUT SOME MISSPELLINGS. IT IS REPETITIVE BECAUSE MY S.O WROTE IT THAT WAY TO SIMULATE OCD BEHAVIORS. IF YOU WOULD LIKE IT TO BE CONTINUED, YOU CAN COMMENT, BUT THERE IS NO PROMISES MY S.O WILL WANT TO CONTINUE IT AND THEY SHALL NOT BE FORCED TO.
> 
> DISCLAIMER THAT NEITHER OF US HAVE OCD SO THEREFORE THIS MAY NOT BE FULLY ACCURATE.

Dirk Strider had always been alone. 

It wasn't that he was ugly or stupid, or overly smart and cocky, but he was very strange to most. He had an obsession with everything being perfect. Perfectly placed, perfectly clean, perfectly perfect. Everything had to be correct, in order, adjusted the same way every time, routine. 

Mornings were especially hard for him. 

Left foot on the floor first, followed by right. Smooth the wrinkles from the pillow and pull the sheets over it. Fold your blanket and lay it on the left corner of the bed, edges tucked in neatly. Look everything over again to make sure nothing is wrong.

Exactly 23 steps to get into the bathroom, turn the sink on. Cold first, then hot, together they make warm. He marked where he liked it to be with Wite-Out so he doesn't forget. After he washes his hands he styles his hair. Teeth always come last. Toothbrush, water, toothpaste, brush, rinse, mouthwash, clean of the brush before placing it back where it was. 

The blonde shuffles back into his room to get clothes from his dresser (32 steps). Crisp and clean shirts are folded and placed right where they should be. He selects a darker orange one and removes his tank top from the night before. The fresh scent of the shirt calms him. Clean. 

Once he has finished dressing himself he makes his way downstairs. No breakfast, he never eats before one o'clock. His backpack is placed on the table. Panic strikes him and his body tenses slightly, it's been moved. If you weren't Dirk, you wouldn't notice, but the small misplacement of the bag makes a lump form in his throat. What if something was missing? Was he forgetting something? 

He empties the contents of his pockets on to the mahogany platform and lines each item up. 

Wallet.

Keys.

Phone.

\---

Wallet.

Keys.

Phone.

 

Alright. Okay. He gathered them back up and put them where they originally were. Now he had to check his bag. Unzipping it from the right to left side like he does every morning. Taking out his computer, then his sweatshirt, and lastly his pencil bag and notebooks. 

Everything is exactly how it should be and where it should be. He relaxes, clenching and unclenching his fists 5 times to ease himself more. Things were okay. He didn't make a mistake. 

The soft ticking of the clock snaps him from his thoughts as he realizes it's almost time to go. He packs everything he needs perfectly and heads out the door. Making sure to twist the key to the left twice, and the right once. He does this three times to be extra careful. 

Walking to school was one of the most bothersome things to him. The sidewalks in his part of town were always littered with cigarette buds and empty fireballs. Accompanied by the crunch of the orange, yellow, red, and brown leaves. He wouldn't last long before the panic started hitting hard. 

About 47 steps before the bus passes by him, it's late. It always passes by 45. Dirk bit his lip and started tapping his index finger against his wrist. Breathe, in and out. He would be fine, things were just a little out of place today, they'd be back to normal by tomorrow. Not need to fret over something so minuscule. 

Dirk finally arrived at the school after about 10 more minutes of going over the day's events. It wasn't even ten o'clock and everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. That was not okay with him. 

He placed his bag in his locker and adjusted everything before shutting it. His eyes scanned over the crowd, breath becoming a little shaky. 

'Stop it Dirk, you're overreacting again.'

He knows the voice in the back of his mind is probably right, but he chooses to ignore it. Panicking about the small things would eventually pass, but today felt weird. Something has changed. 

Just as he turned the corner and finished his thought, he was knocked down. A confused and strangled sound escaped him as he stared down at the floor. Had he tripped? No no, that couldn't possibly be it. He quickly grabbed his books and binders, stacking them and counting each one many times till he was satisfied and calm enough to stand. 

"I'm so sorry lad! I wasn't exactly paying attention to where I was going. You okay?" 

His body tensed, interaction. He hated talking. Especially with strangers, and this voice was new, unlike anything he'd heard before. It wasn't a teacher, and the students here all had clean cut American accents. This was something new. Different. 

Different is bad. 

He began to stutter out a soft apology, rocking on his heels as he stared down at the floor. Dirk didn't need to make eye contact to know the other was smiling. It practically seeped from his voice. "It's no problem at all, the name's Jake, Jake English."  
Dirk Strider had always been alone. 

It wasn't that he was ugly or stupid, or overly smart and cocky, but he was very strange to most. He had an obsession with everything being perfect. Perfectly placed, perfectly clean, perfectly perfect. Everything had to be correct, in order, adjusted the same way every time, routine. 

Mornings were especially hard for him. 

Left foot on the floor first, followed by right. Smooth the wrinkles from the pillow and pull the sheets over it. Fold your blanket and lay it on the left corner of the bed, edges tucked in neatly. Look everything over again to make sure nothing is wrong.

Exactly 23 steps to get into the bathroom, turn the sink on. Cold first, then hot, together they make warm. He marked where he liked it to be with white out so he doesn't forget. After he washes his hands he styles his hair. Teeth always come last. Toothbrush, water, toothpaste, brush, rinse, mouthwash, clean of the brush before placing it back where it was. 

The blonde shuffles back into his room to get clothes from his dresser (32 steps). Crisp and clean shirts are folded and placed right where they should be. He selects a darker orange one and removes his tank top from the night before. The fresh scent of the shirt calms him. Clean. 

Once he has finished dressing himself he makes his way downstairs. No breakfast, he never eats before one o'clock. His backpack is placed on the table. Panic strikes him and his body tenses slightly, it's been moved. If you weren't Dirk, you wouldn't notice, but the small misplacement of the bag makes a lump form in his throat. What if something was missing? Was he forgetting something? 

He empties the contents of his pockets on to the mahogany platform and lines each item up. 

Wallet.

Keys.

Phone.

\---

Wallet.

Keys.

Phone.

 

Alright. Okay. He gathered them back up and put them where they originally were. Now he had to check his bag. Unzipping it from the right to left side like he does every morning. Taking out his computer, then his sweatshirt, and lastly his pencil bag and notebooks. 

Everything is exactly how it should be and where it should be. He relaxes, clenching and unclenching his fists 5 times to ease himself more. Things were okay. He didn't make a mistake. 

The soft ticking of the clock snaps him from his thoughts as he realizes it's almost time to go. He packs everything he needs perfectly and heads out the door. Making sure to twist the key to the left twice, and the right once. He does this three times to be extra careful. 

Walking to school was one of the most bothersome things to him. The sidewalks in his part of town were always littered with cigarette buds and empty fireballs. Accompanied by the crunch of the orange, yellow, red, and brown leaves. He wouldn't last long before the panic started hitting hard. 

About 47 steps before the bus passes by him, it's late. It always passes by 45. Dirk bit his lip and started tapping his index finger against his wrist. Breathe, in and out. He would be fine, things were just a little out of place today, they'd be back to normal by tomorrow. Not need to fret over something so minuscule. 

Dirk finally arrived at the school after about 10 more minutes of going over the day's events. It wasn't even ten o'clock and everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. That was not okay with him. 

He placed his bag in his locker and adjusted everything before shutting it. His eyes scanned over the crowd, breath becoming a little shaky. 

'Stop it Dirk, you're overreacting again.'

He knows the voice in the back of his mind is probably right, but he chooses to ignore it. Panicking about the small things would eventually pass, but today felt weird. Something has changed. 

Just as he turned the corner and finished his thought, he was knocked down. A confused and strangled sound escaped him as he stared down at the floor. Had he tripped? No no, that couldn't possibly be it. He quickly grabbed his books and binders, stacking them and counting each one many times till he was satisfied and calm enough to stand. 

"I'm so sorry lad! I wasn't exactly paying attention to where I was going. You okay?" 

His body tensed, interaction. He hated talking. Especially with strangers, and this voice was new, unlike anything he'd heard before. It wasn't a teacher, and the students here all had clean cut American accents. This was something new. Different. 

Different is bad. 

He began to stutter out a soft apology, rocking on his heels as he stared down at the floor. Dirk didn't need to make eye contact to know the other was smiling. It practically seeped from his voice. "It's no problem at all, the name's Jake, Jake English."


End file.
